The Road To Hell
by punkydiva17
Summary: Sequel to This Life...Amberlea is slowly putting the pieces of her life back together. But John Cena is determined to keep himself in her life...no matter what the cost.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_**Randy Orton**_

It's been eight months, and I'm still having a hell of a time coming to terms with the fact that she just walked away from everything that she had worked so hard for. _The dream is dead_, she had told her father. She just gave up. The worst part is I can't even blame her, considering what happened to her.

She just couldn't take the pain anymore. The heartache and the betrayal were too strong for her to push aside. I can't blame her, but I can damn sure blame John Cena, the sick motherfucker. He deserves to rot in Hell for turning her dream into some sick, unbearable nightmare. No matter how hard she tried to put things aside, I could see it affected her.

At first, it was like that fear we wrestlers get when we get hurt. We jump up and brush it off as if to say, _We aren't hurt. We're okay. _But the cracks in her armor didn't take long to show. Slowly, but surely, she drifted away from me, not wanting me to touch her or speak to her. She stopped caring about her appearance. Work became torture, with him always looming around backstage to serve as a constant reminder of the past. He drove her out of the place she had spent her life dreaming of getting to. I can never forgive him for that.

After she left, life didn't get any better for her. Like so many other WWE Superstars and Divas before her, Amberlea Brennan fell into her own pit of personal hell, ignoring everybody. She drove away anyone that cared about her, myself included. When she quit, Vince had tried to do everything that he could to keep her, even offering her more money to just train down at Ohio Valley Wrestling, but she didn't want it. I could see it before she left; the passion in her eyes was long gone. No amount of money would fix that.

Before she left, she had started drinking more. I'm not talking about that pussy shit like beer and wine; she was making best friends with the good Dr. Daniels. Within months, Christy Hemme had it spread backstage that she was a full-fledged alcoholic; something Amberlea always denied to me. I had no reason to buy the rumours. After all, Christy is a gossip and Amberlea wasn't having any psychotic meltdowns or remorseful about her behaviour. She just drank and wallowed in her own pit of misery, where nobody could reach in and pull her out. Believe me, I tried so hard.

It wasn't long before she was put on anti-depressants to numb the nihilism and the depression she felt. Then came the Percocet for all the injuries that she had accumulated over the years that hadn't had a proper shot to heal. Then came the Xanax for anxiety. It happened so fast, and before I knew it she had faded away from me. The worst part was that it happened so fast that I couldn't stop it. She just slipped through my fingers.

Vince caught wind of what was happening with Amberlea, and it concerned him. He has eyes and ears all over the place, so it doesn't surprise me that he would have found out. Out of desperation, we had set up an intervention. We were all terrified that she was going to become another pro wrestling statistic. Unfortunately, Amberlea had overdosed at the intervention. It was terrifying; I'm still haunted by the way she foamed at the mouth and convulsed in my arms. She almost didn't make it, which was scary as hell. The fear of living the rest of my life without her is still too much for me to even think about.

Amberlea's father Charlie had been devastated as we sat around and waited for her to get her stomach pumped. We all knew that she was battling some horrible demons and some terrible trauma, but we never thought for a million years she'd take it that far. I'm still searching for signs - it's been three months - but I can't see anything, no matter how hard I look. She had told Charlie that she wanted to go and see her mother, who had died when she was young. Charlie had been heartbroken, in so much pain, but after watching Amberlea's free-fall from grace he agreed to put her in the hospital on a 5150 psychiatric hold. She had been furious when she found out she was being held there, lashing out at everybody around her. Charlie was beside himself; I was with him the entire time, smoking like a chimney, afraid of everything.

Then, it got worse. The information about her drugging, the overdose and her hospitalization made its way onto the Internet, onto the dirt sheets and even Perez Hilton. The news sites seemed to revel in her personal horrors, while the marks behind their computers praised the "Mystery Rapist" for getting a piece of that. It was some of the most disgusting stuff I've ever read. It took everything I had not to track every last one of them down and kill them with my bare hands. It's been a long, arduous road from Hell for Amberlea, but she's a strong girl.

At the moment, Amberlea is spending a bonus fourth month down at the Pasadena Recovery Center in California, a long way away from her home here in St. Louis. She needed to get away from every person who had ever hurt her, and California seemed like the place to go. Beautiful scenery, neutral territory. Since she lives in Los Angeles, Melina - a developmental Diva about to make her WWE debut - takes a drive down there once a week and reports her progress to us. Amberlea won't return my calls.

Charlie informed me that she's been learning coping mechanisms that she never had, that she's been dealing with things she's never really had to face - like the death of her mother. When the pain of the things in her life became too much for Amberlea, instead of facing it, she worked harder at becoming a professional wrestler. With her WWE departure, she had no way of coping with anything, and vulture doctors were waiting for her with prescription slips to numb the pain. He told me that she's sounding a lot better, but I've been too chicken to phone her.

I'm playing hooky from work. I told Vince that I had some nagging injuries in my neck that I needed to rest. Vince gave me a week to ice it down, but I'm taking off to California in about an hour to go and see her before _SmackDown_ touches down in Anaheim next week. Tour the facility, see where she's been staying. I plan on having a good talk with her - if she'll allow it. I just need to see her, to feel her in my arms again, to know that she's all right. I just need to see her, if for anything else than to get the image of her overdosing and hospitalized out of my head. She had gone straight from the hospital to rehab, but it's done nothing to stop the nightmares, the horrible and vivid daydreams where she died en route to the hospital from the intervention. It's been such a long few months, my mind has been fucked to the fullest extent. As happy as I am that she pulled through, that she's starting to understand things and come to terms, there's a part of me that still wants to grab her and shake the shit out of her, telling her never to scare me like that again.

I miss not having Amberlea on the road with me. I miss our road trips and our movie nights. I miss the Thursday night dinners we used to have once a week to stay grounded before our friendship had splintered. We are all so damaged, so fragmented, so splintered. There's nothing I can do about it. It pisses me off to know that this is all John's doing. He'll never redeem himself for as long as he lives, and I don't know why he's not in jail. It's like everybody is covering this up. I hope he can't sleep at night; I hope the nightmares of the effect he's had on Amberlea chokes the life out of him like they suffocate me.

Mom and Dad aren't sure if it's a good idea that I go see her out in Cali. They're worried that I'm going to cause her to relapse in a blaze of anti-depressants and cocktails. They warn me that I'm going to be bringing with me old memories that she is working hard to forget, even if I don't intend to. I know I'm being really selfish in going, but I need to see her for nothing more than my own well-being. I need her. I can't be without her. It's killing me.

Charlie Brennan's never held me responsible for anything that's happened with his daughter. I still talk to him regularly and go to his house for dinner once a month to get progress on Amberlea. He's always quick to tell me he doesn't blame me, Vince or the business for what happened to his only child. He does, however, rest a lot of blame on the broad shoulders of John Cena. Charlie tells me regularly he would give anything to sucker punch John right in the face for the atrocities he committed.

I looked around my bedroom after I locked up my suitcase. Nate's going to come over and stay while I'm gone so Killer, my snake, gets fed. My plane ticket is resting on the nightstand. The WWE locker room is demanding a full, in-depth update on Amberlea when I get back. There's huge heat on John backstage for what's happened, especially because in spite of it all, he is still Vince's "Golden Boy", the number one merchandise seller, the one the children want to come and see.

At the end of the day, the reason John is still with us is because he is good for business. But, personally, the fact that he is still here at Amberlea's expense sickens me.

* * *

_**John Cena**_

Everybody is still looking at me like I ran over their dog. Fuck them all.

Amberlea left the WWE eight months ago quietly. I wanted to stop her. Hell, I would have done anything to keep her here. But since Randy branded me the candy-man, nobody will allow me to get near her. It's a restraining order without the legalese. Nobody's letting Randy near me, either; word around here is that he's got it in his head that he can kick my ass or something.

Amberlea won't hear me out. She still refuses to talk to me, and won't even answer her phone anymore. She doesn't think that there's any way I can defend myself over what happened. The worst part is, since her departure, I've heard all of these rumours, but nobody will confirm or deny them. I've taken to the Internet to get my information about her and her life, and if what they are writing is right, then she's gone down a real dark path since she left this familial umbrella.

The Divas give me nothing but dirty looks now, like this entire situation between Randy, Amberlea and I is any of their business. They don't understand how much I love and I care for Lea. They don't get how this entire situation has hurt me. Trish Stratus looks at me like I'm lower than dog shit, and Lita acts like she's afraid to be left alone with me. For that matter, so does Molly Holly, Victoria, Stacy Keibler and Gail Kim. With the minor exception of a few people, everybody acts like they'd rather kill me than work with me. Vince just ignores it.

I wish somebody would just tell me what in the hell is going on with Lea. I'd love it even more if she would just give me the time of day. Let us hash things out and get our friendship back on track. Since the day that Randy sucker punched me in her driveway, he's done one fuck of a good job keeping her away from me. While what happened to her was horrible, why is it my fault that I wanted her to live her life?

If the rumours going around the Internet are true, and the crisis with Lea did happen, then I can only hope that she finds the inner peace that she needs. I'm trying to figure out if she's in treatment, but nobody's telling me anything, not even Vince, Stephanie or Shane. She's not answering her phone, and when I went to her townhouse, I was informed that she had moved. To where, nobody but Randy knows, I'm sure.

One thing is for sure: I will never, ever forgive Randy Orton for all of the problems that he has created between Lea and I. For fracturing our friendship - she was my friend before she was his. How fucking dare he! Never in a million years will I accept any apology that he even tries to attempt with me when he realizes that he was wrong for what he did.

The worst part is that her family - her father Charlie in particular - refuses to talk to me, and has even gone so far as to take Randy Orton's side in this whole mess. A little while ago, I tried to call Charlie to get an update about his beautiful daughter, and he just hung up on me without saying so much as a word.

* * *

_**Amberlea Brennan**_

For the past four months I've been falling in love with the beautiful California sunsets and the smell of the ocean in the air. The sun was slowly beginning to fade behind the horizon, casting a fiery orange glow over the water. Pink, orange and bright violet pierced the skyline, a beautiful sight that I could get used to for the rest of my life if I wanted to. It's crazy to think that I've never really stopped and taken a breath and realized the splendour of California.

There's a beautiful garden here at the Pasadena Recovery Center. I'm currently sitting in the middle of it, sneaking in some meditation before dinner. Birds chirped and water rushed in my ears. Sometimes it feels good to meditate, to be outside of myself with nothing but nature around me. I couldn't ask for a more beautiful or serene setting than what I have here at the Center. The feeling of peace, balance and relaxation is absolutely lovely.

Nobody wanted me to walk out when I left the WWE eight months ago. Vince McMahon was upset, throwing money at me and practically begging for me not to go. He was willing to add all sorts of provisions and incentives and pay raises to my contract. I think he worried about me heading over to TNA, but it had nothing to do with that. I just needed to leave and piece my fragmented mind back together.

What happened between John Cena and I was probably the biggest reason why I left, next to the burnout and the stress that comes with being a WWE Diva on the road three hundred days a year. I sold my townhouse and moved to the other side of St. Louis. Just about everything was left in boxes; I had no desire to unpack. No matter where I went, I just didn't feel like I was at home. Not even with Dad. I blacked out my mirrors with T-shirts. John took something valuable from me, and he left me feeling cheap, disgusting and used. That's something I've been working through, though I know it's not going to go away overnight. I thought about leaving Missouri altogether, but Daddy made it clear he wasn't packing up and moving again. I know now that it was selfish of me to think that he would.

The worst part of it all is that my budding more-than-platonic relationship with Randy Orton suffered. In spite of his best efforts, I let things fall apart because I didn't think I was worthy. I still don't. He's never given up on me, something that baffles me. When the nightmares started, the straight glasses of vodka began. Then the panic attacks started when I thought I saw John at the library, at the grocery store, at the airport. Before I knew it, I had distanced myself from Randy and I was on a cocktail of pills that made me a zombie.

I can't recall the intervention. That, unbeknownst to them, had been the day I had decided to end it all, to go be with my mother and get away from the terrible life that I had been living the past four months. Despite my best efforts, the only thing I can remember is waking up with the machines beeping. My stomach had been pumped. The doctors told me I was on a 5150 psychiatric hold, because the people around me thought I was a danger to myself. When they told me this, I sobbed. I felt so dangerous, so disconnected from myself. In my anger, I lashed out at everyone - Randy, Daddy. I haven't spoken to Randy since I was hospitalized. He still hangs out with my father, I know, but in my anger I had told him not to bring up Randy, and I'm too much of a chicken to cave. But he's still in my thoughts all the time; I still regret how things went down between the two of us. I've come to the realization that he must hate me for the pain and suffering I caused him. For the nightmares I'm sure he has. I deserve it. My counsellor Bob tells me not to feel like what John said to me about being a tease has any kind of validation, but it's hard. Anybody that would have told me a year ago that things would get so complicated, I would have called them crazy.

When the hold came off after seventy-two hours, I decided immediately to go and get treatment for all the problems that seemed to be taking over my life. By that point, I was desperate to regain control, some sort of clarity and balance. I was a bit afraid that I had become addicted to Percocet and Daddy was worried about the drinking. Coming out to California had been a calculated decision; I wanted to be a neutral place. Sometimes Melina and her boyfriend John Hennigan come and visit me. How they found out I'm here, I don't know, but I've found myself becoming closer with Melina. Trish phones as well, but I know she's busy with her spot as the top Diva.

Rehab is so much more intense than I ever thought it would be. Facing all the hard things, like John, the fracture of friendship and the death of my mother, hasn't been fun. The general consensus is that I have a lot of reasons to feel the pain I feel, but it's about trying to channel it in a healthy way. Yoga's been a big help. I've even started writing music, even though I can't play an instrument to save my life. I keep a journal as well, to keep my thoughts organized. The doctors and technicians think that I can leave at the end of the month. They're proud of all the outlets I've managed to find. I wonder why I never thought of looking at them before.

I talk to my dad semi-regularly, thanks to the rules of rehab, but they're pretty lenient with me. He assures me that nobody at home faults me for anything. I'm ashamed of myself for falling apart the way I did, but Bob tells me every human bumps into a bad patch now and then. I still see what happened in my head clearly; Randy hitting John, John on the ground with his jaw in his hand, eyes full of hatred. It still hurts a great deal, but the doctors tell me it's normal.

"Hey…there you are."

Turning, I saw a young tech by the name of Tasha standing behind me. She's a short little spitfire - I don't even think she's five feet tall - with bright violet hair and a ton of tattoos. She's a total sweetheart and, as she puts it, a former crackhead. We kind of took to one another here, and I have this small feeling that she and I are going to be lifelong friends over everything we've bonded over. "Hi, Tasha."

"I figured you'd be out here, Amber. Everybody's gotten a little bit worried about you being gone so long. It's dinner time, you know. You must be hungry."

"Kind of. I'm sorry," I apologized sheepishly, standing to my feet. "I just thought I'd come out here and meditate, but I suppose I lost track of time, didn't I?"

"It happens to the best of us," Tasha said with an understanding smile before she turned away from me and walked back into the building. I took a moment to look back at the sunset that was starting to fall behind the water. Despite the clarity this place has provided me with, I'm still so confused about so much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

_**John Cena**_

Apparently, Randy Orton's got the week off to nurse a neck injury. I smell total bullshit. It's probably just a way to keep us separated for yet another week. I can't believe that people have been able to keep us separated for so long. Too many people are sticking their noses into a situation they know nothing about. I didn't realize I was working with so many drama hounds.

I've been trying to put my ego to the side and figure out a way to help Lea, but Randy's too big of a dick to understand this. She's damaged by the accusations he levelled against me, and now I may never get her back, even as a friend. It's too bad; I always thought she had better judgment in people.

Lucky for me, despite what Randy has me painted as, there are people here who refuse to believe that I'm the kind of man Randy accuses me of being. They know that with our history, I wouldn't dare dream of hurting her. Vince is included in that small circle, though I know he's been trying to stay neutral. He's definitely angry Lea quit, though.

Tonight, I've got Chris Jericho in a match. He's a cool guy. I don't know where he stands in the entire Lea-Orton-Me saga, but if he's against me, he's not saying anything about it. That's probably for the best; he knows better than to make things awkward. All of his years in the WWE, he is a consummate professional. I know he's good friends with Randy, though, and I can't help but wonder just what Randy told him about things.

Later tonight, I'm going out with the trio of Edge, Christian and Batista. We're going drinking, to get our minds off of the crazy year we've all had. I'm hoping that one of them will know something about Lea's condition. I seriously can't believe how Randy and his inner circle have managed to keep this stuff a secret for months. I'd like to think that I could get an update from Dave, but Randy's distanced himself from Dave, tired of Dave's womanizing, kiss-and-tell attitude. Dave thinks that Randy's a stuck up fucker, too. Glad to see I'm not the only one.

I hate thinking about Lea's purported downward spiral. My only hope is that it has nothing to do with me. When I have the opportunity, I will do everything in my power to show Lea the _real_ Randy Orton. Show her that her "knight in shining armour" is just as much of a sleazebag scum sucker as she thinks I am. I will show her what a manipulative asshole he is. I hate him, and I hope he burns in Hell for all of the pain he's caused Lea. She deserves so much better.

* * *

_**Randy Orton**_

"Oh, my God! Randy! What are you doing here?"

Jesus Christ, she looks fucking incredible! Her hair is a lighter shade of brown than what it used to be, thanks to the California sun. Almost a dark caramel. It looks so much more natural. The sparkle in her beautiful hazel eyes had come back, creating a radiant aura around her that was halo-like. She looks toned, tanned, refreshed and her body even looked leaner, if that was possible. Amberlea's hair was in a high ponytail, dressed in black yoga pants and a white V-necked sleeveless top. It took me a few moments to let my words compose themselves inside of my head before I could even think about speaking intelligibly. The beautiful smile on her face was back. "I, uh, I got in last night. I thought I would come and see you today. I wanted to see how you're doing. Is that okay?"

She was silent for a few moments. To my relief, she nodded.

"Of course it's okay." She rushed to me, hugging me tightly. The familiar smell of her vanilla perfume invaded my senses. I fought every urge to just collapse into her. How I missed her so much. "What good timing, too. I have a day pass to go out, so we don't have to be stuck here all day. What do you say we go for lunch? I have to do some shopping, too, if that's all right."

"It sounds like a good plan."

"Great. I'll be right back. I just need to let Shelly know that I'll be out for the day with a friend." I felt a warm surge rush through me when she said I was her friend, but she didn't notice. She disappeared for a few moments, leaving me standing awkwardly in front of the building. When she returned, she was flanked by a skeletal blonde dressed head-to-toe in black. Big glasses covered the blonde's face.

"You must be Amber's friend. I'm Shelly." She extended her hand. I shook it. It was bony, cold. Amber. That's what Hunter and the guys called her. I will always call her Amberlea. Her name is beautiful, unique. Just like her.

"I'm Randy," I introduced myself to her. "Is it all right that I'm with her for the day? What is her curfew so I can have her back here in time? I don't want to do anything that would interfere with her recovery."

Shelly seemed impressed by my words. My physique, too, I could tell. "Six. Dinner time."

"That sounds good to me." I checked my watch; it was eleven-thirty in the morning. That meant I had a good six and a half hours to spend with her. Shelly decided to lay more rules down on Amberlea before she went to deal with somebody who was detoxing. For the life of me, I can't figure out why Amberlea is here. Sure, it's great she's getting help, but I think what happened was a cry for help. I don't think Amberlea is addicted to anything; I'm not sure she sees herself as an addict, either.

It was a beautiful, seventy-five degree day in Pasadena, with the sun high in the sky. "Do you know any good places around here?" I asked. She nodded. God, she looked great, even in her yoga wear. She readjusted her purse and I spotted a sparkle in her belly button. I fingered the jewel. "When did you get this?"

"A couple months ago," she confessed. "Anyway, there's a great Italian café down the road from here. They make the best Tiramisu cheesecake I've ever had. You just have to try it."

"That does sound good." I opened my car door for her and allowed her to step inside. I slipped into the driver's seat. Our drive to the café was awkward. There's still an undeniable pull between us, and it doesn't help our relationship has been in limbo for months. We know there's the pull there, but there's always something pulling us in different directions. There's a pull with her and John as well; if there wasn't, things wouldn't be as complicated as they are.

Despite what John wants to believe, I never in a million years wanted to believe that John was capable of doing what he did to Amberlea. He was the last person on my radar. Even worse, he had been staying at Amberlea's house when I had found out, trying to weasel in, playing the role of the sympathetic friend, giving her a shoulder to cry on after she had been drugged like some animal and raped. That's what she was. _Raped_. John can sugar coat it all he wants, but that's what he did to her. Amberlea had idolized and adored John. Telling her had been one of the worst days of my life. Seeing the pain in her eyes and watching the hurt follow her everywhere was too much for me to bear.

The café was a nice little place with a red and green striped awning and a beautiful view. The place was brightly lit, with big windows, white tablecloths over squared tables and candles on the table. Amberlea and I ordered a nice, light lunch, but I have to admit that my mind was on this Tiramisu cheesecake that she had her heart set on.

"How are things, Amberlea? Be honest." For the first time since I arrived, her eyes darkened a little bit. With a sigh, she tightened her ponytail.

"It's a lot more intense than I thought it would be," she admitted. "It's been hard, emotionally and physically draining. I've gotten to see what kind of a person I am, and how I've never really had any coping mechanisms before. I guess that's the best thing that could possibly come out of such a messed up situation." The waitress arrived and put our sodas down in front of us. The waitress, a perky blonde in a white mini sundress, winked at me before leaving. We sipped in silence. "I'm glad you came out, Randy. It's really, really good to see you. I mean that."

"I would have come down here sooner, but I've been debating it," I admitted. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me."

"I would never turn you away, Randy." She sighed. "I lashed out at you because you were there. And because you showed me things I didn't want to see or want to know about. But you did the right thing. I needed to know what happened to me."

"It hurt watching you slip away from me." The waves of emotion that washed over me were overwhelming. "I was so afraid for you, Amberlea."

"I don't really know what to say about that, Randy," she replied, "Outside of I'm sorry, and that's not really good enough. I know that."

"Amberlea, I still have nightmares about the intervention…about the overdose…I guess that's the biggest reason that I needed to come and see you. I needed to make sure you were all right." I reached out and put my hand over hers. A huge part of me was expecting her to yank it away, but she placed her hand over mine.

"I'm sorry, Randy. I wish I had explanations and answers, but I have no way to make you feel better." We separated as the waitress put our food down in front of us and disappeared. Amberlea's eyes were welling up with tears. "I've caused so much grief to so many…"

"It's not your fault, Amberlea. You had so much happening to you that it was only a matter of time before you broke. Nobody faults you." A sad smile crossed her beautiful face. "You're looking beautiful, Amberlea. Healthy."

"I guess getting away from the toxicity helps that," she replied. "I do kind of miss being backstage and seeing everybody, though."

"You know you could always come back. Vince would love it."

"I could. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, though, yet. I'm probably going to take a few months off and just get in touch with myself. I can afford that." Randy smiled; Amberlea had taken Jim Ross' financial statements to heart and had invested her money pretty good. She could retire at any time if she wanted, what with all of her smart investments.

"Vince wants you back."

"I know he does. He would have done anything to keep me from leaving. But I had to. Everything just became too much for me to handle."

"I know. You look great, and I can tell you've started clearing some hurdles." The image of her overdosing still plays in my head. Why won't it stop? "I'm sorry I let you down, Amberlea."

"You didn't. Trust me, it had _nothing_ to do with you. This is on John, and maybe one day I'll understand why he had to do what he did and forgive him. But I can't now." She stared out the big window. "How's life in St. Louis, Randy?"

"Boring without you." I leaned back in my chair. "California life seems to be treating you well."

"It's treating me fine," she assured me. "Beautiful blue water to swim in, beautiful scenery to meditate. Time to myself to think. Great stores, beautiful weather. They're going to release me at the end of the month and then I'll be coming home. I miss sleeping in my own bed."

"You know if you need anything, my family, your Dad and even the McMahon family is here for you." I didn't want to tell her this, but Vince was picking up the tab for what happened. Part of his new Talent Wellness Policy. Charlie made all the arrangements with Vince already.

"I know," she answered. The waitress arrived to take our plates and Amberlea ordered two pieces of Tiramisu cheesecake. "Hey…what say afterwards, you and I go catch a movie?"

* * *

_**Amberlea Brennan**_

After dinner, and my fun-filled day with Randy, I flopped down in bed exhausted. I forgot how much I missed having Randy around. My roommate Aimee is out doing some late therapy, so I've got the room to myself for at least another twenty-five minutes or so. Our room is fairly basic, with hard wood floors, and comfortable beds in wooden frames and colourful blankets.

On the mirror that's over top of my dresser is an old photo of Randy and I, taken just after he had won his first World Heavyweight Championship at last year's _SummerSlam_. It had to be one of the happiest nights of my life, one of my best friends getting recognition for his hard work. Of course, he'd wind up losing to Triple H a month later and considers his first face turn to be a complete disaster, but that night it was a celebration. Randy Orton, the youngest World Heavyweight Champion in WWE history. John was the United States Champion at the time and his stock was going through the roof as well. At the time, life was going so well for all of us. How things can change so quick…

The bedroom door burst open and Aimee walked in. She was a severely depressed twenty-two year-old Gothic girl with an addiction to opiate medication stemming from a bad car accident she had been in. She has a prosthetic leg. I love her hair; a black pixie cut with fuchsia and sapphire streaks running through it. She's got rings in her eyebrows, ears, nose and lip, along with a lifetime of emotional baggage that makes me feel like a whiner. She's a nice girl, but not so familiar with professional wrestling. It seems to excite her hearing stories about my trips to Ireland, Scotland and the drinking I've done with Stone Cold Steve Austin, somebody her brother had idolized before his death in said car accident.

"Hey. I heard you had a visitor today," she said to me, sitting down on her bed. I nodded. "How did that go? Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. It was good catching up with an old friend."

"So, who was it? Was it Melina and John again?"

"No. Randy." Aimee pointed to the photograph and I nodded. Her eyes widened.

"_He_ visited you today, and you didn't say anything?"

"I didn't know. He just showed up. Last thing I expected."

"God, why wasn't I here for _that_? Amberlea, your friend is fucking _hot!" she announced, slamming her hands down on the bed for dramatic effect. I laughed. "Fess up, Amber - have you ever done anything with Randy?" I had to avert my eyes; why, I don't know. "Oh, my God, you have! I knew it! God, he looks like he could be a demon in bed!" I felt the hot blush of embarrassment climbing my neck. My eyes were still averted. Aimee could be a little bit too blunt sometimes. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_**Randy Orton**_

I have to admit that Mom, Dad, Becky and Nate went all out decorating Amberlea's backyard. Last weekend, Mom came out and planted chrysanthemums and rare blue roses in her garden. Streamers and balloons in Amberlea's favourite colours - red, violet and yellow - were immaculately arranged all around the yard. Becky spent the week making an elaborate, bright and glittering WELCOME HOME sign that was now hanging over the barbecue. Mom made apple and strawberry rhubarb pies, along with Caesar, garden and spinach salad for the barbecue tonight. Dad has steaks marinating in everything from olive oil and Montreal steak spice to zesty Italian dressing. My mouth's been watering all afternoon by all the mouth-watering scents.

While everybody's been working outside, I spent the last two days unpacking her house. It looks beautiful now, no longer like a house filled with random stacks of boxes. I'm still incredulous over the fact that she hadn't unpacked in _eight months_. Then again, I have the feeling that she couldn't handle coming across John's photographs in the boxes. Their friendship went back further than ours, and the way he had treated her had left her broken. My heart still breaks and my blood still boils when I think about it. I can't believe that I didn't have him pegged for such a sleazebag asshole. It bothers me that I couldn't protect Amberlea from the one man she trusts.

Charlie Brennan is picking up Amberlea at the airport. He's not going to say a word about the surprise we've set up for her. Beside the barbecue, Dad's got a cooler of beers ready to go. Trish Stratus is here, along with Melina Perez and her boyfriend John Hennigan. The McMahon family arrived twenty minutes ago, surprised to find my mom had made enough food to feed three armies.

"How are you feeling, Randy?" Mom asked me as I opened a bottle of beer. I flashed her a grin.

"You have no idea how good it is to have her home," I told her. Mom smiled at me. She said that there's been a change that's come over me, a happier change, since I've been with Amberlea. I've never told Mom what happened between Amberlea and John, but I did tell her that some traumatic events had surfaced, creating problems that overwhelmed her. I didn't go into any specifics, and thank God, Mom didn't ask for any.

We all fell silent as soon as we heard Charlie's motorcycle. My adrenaline spiked and my hands began to shake. I started jumping up and down like a total dumbass. "She's here!" I whispered excitedly. Trish put a hand on my shoulder to calm me down, cocking an eyebrow at me in surprise. She looked terrific, dressed in a denim minidress, her bleached blond hair back in a high ponytail. Shane pointed and laughed at me quietly. He's had two beers since he arrived and is well on his way to getting a good buzz on.

"God, it feels so good to be home," I heard Amberlea say from around the corner. "Ugh…but I still have to unpack…" Turning into the backyard, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened in surprise. Charlie was standing behind her, dressed in his motorcycle leathers with his hands on his hips. A wide grin was plastered to his face. She saw the big WELCOME HOME sign and from the six feet between us I could see the unshed tears shining in her eyes.

"Welcome home!" we all shouted. She laughed, doubling over and clapping her hands in appreciation. Amberlea was dressed for summer and looked terrific. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. She wore tennis shoes and an old Guns N Roses T-shirt, along with a pair of denim shorts that showed off her shapely, beautifully tanned legs.

Amberlea turned to her father. "Were you in on this?" she asked. He nodded and she hugged him tightly before venturing further into the backyard. "Who's idea was this…?" she asked. She stopped when she saw me. Her face lit up like a light bulb. "Oh, I think I know…"

Before I could even speak, she launched herself into my arms at warp-speed. I barely had any time to put down my beer before I caught her, spinning her around and enjoying the sound of her giggles and laughter ringing in my ears once again. When I put her down, she turned to everybody. "Thank you all for being here. This is incredible. I didn't think I'd be missed this much."

"Welcome home. You look great. California agreed with you," Stephanie observed. She laughed as Stephanie wrapped her up in a hug.

"I feel a lot better," she confessed. She looked over at Trish. "Believe it or not, Trish, I _finally _got into yoga!" Since injuring her back in 2001, Trish Stratus has become WWE's resident yoga guru. She opted to do some yoga instead of undergoing back surgery and she was pleased to find it worked for her. For years, she tried to get Amberlea into it, but she just wasn't interested. Trish clapped her hands and cheered at the development. Mom handed Amberlea a glass of lemonade.

"It's so good to see you, Amberlea. You look so tanned," Mom informed her. Amberlea laughed. Mom and Dad have always loved Amberlea. They noticed that I loved her before I even did.

"Thanks, Elaine. I've missed being home and having Randy so close by."

"Randy did, too. He's been driving us crazy without you," Becky announced, effectively embarrassing me in front of everybody in the backyard. "Since you left, he's been a complete nut." Amberlea laughed at the redness in my cheeks as I shot a death glare at my little sister. _Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Becks…_

* * *

_**John Cena**_

* * *

The word going around backstage today is that Lea's coming home from rehab.

Nobody's telling me anything. They won't tell me where she's been the last four months, what sent her there, or how she's doing. Bradshaw tells me that the McMahon family - Triple H included - are heading out to her new place for some little celebratory event that's being held for her homecoming. I hope it goes well for her. She deserves nothing but the best. I've been out of the loop for so long that sometimes I think I should stop trying, but I can't. I love Lea to death.

The family and I are doing our last barbecue of the summer tonight. It's a beautifully humid August sunset, with the sky painted a blend of light blue, orange and pink. The sun is fading quickly. Mom's in the house making one of her famous pasta salads with my brother Sean. Dad's at the grill, making everything from hamburgers to steaks to hot dogs to smokies. It's going to be a feast. Dan's girlfriend brought some Caesar salad, one of Lea's favourite salads. I know Mom and Dad want to ask me about her, but they know better at this point; I'm so tired of being asked questions I don't have the answer to. Thankfully for me, they don't believe what I've been accused of.

Staring into the night sky, I can't help but wonder what Lea's doing. Is she on her flight? Has she landed yet? Has she made it back to her home in St. Louis? Randy's more than likely there with her right now, hugging and touching her and playing his bullshit White Knight role to the hilt. He's become an expert at the art of facades. I can't believe that I misgauged Randy so much; I'm normally so good at pegging people for what they are. I should have pegged him as the snake in the grass that he is when we were all down in Ohio Valley Wrestling.

He wants Lea because he knows I'm in love with her. Anything to twist the knife further into my back. It's all a game to him. And in the end, all he's going to do is hurt Lea. He is the worst kind of person.

For the past four months, I've been WWE Champion. I'm the top of the ladder. Randy seems to be sliding down the ladder, getting shipped to the minor leagues of _SmackDown _because of his behaviour. Everyone is speculating that his anger issues stem from his issues with Lea and her reported downward spiral. I call bullshit. Vince is happy with me in the top spot because I'm real. Randy's just a one-time transitional champion with a shitty attitude and a holier-than-thou complex. I'm main-eventing Monday night _Raw_, while Randy has his father following him around like a second shadow backstage so he'll behave.

I once heard Lita and Trish Stratus gossiping about Randy and Lea. Trish said that Lea refused to touch Randy during their brief time together. She never let him get a hit of that. I'll bet he tried. I'm glad to see she has some standards; I must have ruined her for everybody else.

I'm hoping that Vince talks Lea into returning to the WWE at the homecoming celebration. I wish she was still backstage with us; this is what she was meant to do. She never should have left. I miss her so much. I miss her laughter and her optimistic way of life. How nothing ever gets her down. I miss those beautiful eyes of hers.

When she comes back, I'm hoping to talk Vince into putting her on _Raw_, away from Randy. It's the only way that her and I are going to hash out whatever wedges Randy has put in place between us. We should have hashed things out months before she quit. The more she stays away from Randy Orton, the more I think her clarity will restore. She never would have quit if we could have hashed things out. He turned her into a zombie. Into a mindless, depressed, nihilistic zombie. This complicated mess has gone on between the three of us for way too long now; it's about time that I started smoothing everything out and got Randy out of the picture.

* * *

_**Amberlea Brennan**_

* * *

Everybody began to leave at sunset, bringing a dream-like day to an end. Their words were soft and kind as they hugged me and wished me the best. Trish had to fly out for an appearance in Louisiana. It's a shame I didn't get to spend too much time with her; I miss her dearly. But today has been one of the best days I've had in a long time, and I feel lousy that it has to end. Twenty-four hours just isn't long enough in a day.

After the yard was empty, I let Randy take me by the hand and lead me into my house. I was surprised to find it cleaned and unpacked. Everything shined and sparkled, not a hint of dust. There wasn't a box anywhere. Randy slid his arm around my waist and I revelled in the warmth that radiated from him.

"Did you do this?" I asked, resting my head against his shoulder.

"I did. I had a feeling there were some…_reasons _why you were refusing to unpack, so I came in and did it. I'm sorry if I crossed any lines, but you can rearrange this place anyway you would like to." God bless him, he was blushing a deep crimson. He's come a long way from that brooding, moody guy that used to just sit in the corner and stare at me in OVW. It seems so funny now to think that at one point, I thought he hated me.

"It looks perfect, Randy. Thank you. For everything." I hugged him tightly, inhaling the sweet scent of his cologne. "I really don't know what I would do without you," I confided sheepishly. His arms felt wonderful around me, a perfect fit, like a glove. Tears burned behind my eyes; I knew I would never take him for granted again.

I looked up at him. The familiar, impish grin that I loved so much had spread across his beautifully full lips. Before I could even ask what he was scheming inside that head of his, he lifted me up. I squealed in shock before I wrapped my legs around his waist. My head rested on his shoulder as he took me over to the couch. He sat down with me still suctioned to him like an octopus.

"I notice you're wearing my locket today," he observed. One hand fingered my locket and the other rubbed my back.

"I couldn't think of a better day to wear it. Plus, I had a sneaking suspicion you had something planned," I confessed. He grinned. "You don't seem to be the type that would ignore me coming home."

"A special day like this? Never." He sighed. "I don't want to leave, but I should give you time to get settled…"

"Please don't leave. I haven't seen you in four months. Stay with me. We can go to the video store and get candy and soda and old horror movies from the fifties. Just like old times." He groaned. I could feel his hardness against me. I went to shift and move off him, but he held me tight in place.

"That sounds like a great idea," he said, burrowing his head into my neck. My breath hitched as his lips touched the sensitive skin beneath my earlobe. "It's so good to have you home." I pulled back; his eyes were shining with sincerity. On impulse, I leaned forward and kissed him, berating myself for forgetting how great his lips felt against mine. He groaned, holding onto my hips tightly as he returned the kiss with ferocity. I could tell he wanted to go further - so did I -but we were both unsure about how far we could push things. I pulled back and we rested foreheads.

"You're never slipping through my fingers again," he said with a smile. We were both breathing hard, like long-distance runners. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

"I'm glad to hear that. I feel the same way."

It wasn't even three years ago that I remember being upset, thinking that Randy didn't like me. He was so moody, just sitting in the corner under his storm cloud. Now, three years later, we're together and happy. John's become the outsider. And rightfully so. I know that I was taught about the art of forgiveness and things, but I'm just not ready for it. I brushed my hand against Randy's face and smiled. It felt so nice to be home.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Hey, guys - I got an update for you! Thanks to everyone for their patience and their reviews. I hope everyone has a happy holidays!_  
**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_**Randy Orton**_

The phone rang while I was running full-speed on the treadmill in my basement. I was surprised I even heard the phone at all, considering the Metallica blaring in my ears was loud enough to drown out a train wreck. I pulled a bud out of my ear and stopped the treadmill, getting off and answering the phone before it went to my answering machine. "Hello?"

"Hey, Randy, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Not at all, Vince," I assured him. "I was just in the middle of a workout. What can I do for you?"

"Randy, I want you to answer me honestly: has Amberlea ever spoken to you about returning to WWE in any sort of capacity?" Vince asked. I blinked and then bit back a snicker.

"No," I answered honestly, "She's still settling into life at home. Do you miss her that much?" I cracked. He didn't have to answer because I know he misses Amberlea dearly. The Divas that he's letting Johnny Ace recruit can't walk and chew gum at the same time, let alone wrestle. It's downright shameful – and the reason why I've got the reputation I do. I grew up in this business my entire life; the idea that people are using it to springboard to "bigger and better" things is insulting. But Johnny Ace has Vince convinced that one of these new models could be the next Trish Stratus. Vince is giving him enough rope to hang himself, considering the models they're finding are awful bundles of silicone that seem to think this career is a diving board to fame.

"You know I do. Look, I'm aware of the issues with John Cena, so I just want to tell you that I'm not going to stand for the two of you attacking each other over her. I expect a certain level of decorum." I snorted. "Randy, I'm serious!"

"You know what he did to her, Vince. You can't expect me to be okay with you throwing her with him." Don't get me started on how I feel about Vince making John the golden boy. It's no wonder Amberlea left. It's still one of those things that make my blood hot when I stop to think about it. So I try not to. "Have you spoken to her about coming back?" I asked.

"Not yet. I'm running it by you first."

"I'm not her keeper, Vince. Amberlea is very much capable of answering for herself," I told him. "There's no reason to call me about this – it's her career."

"All right then, Randy, I'm going to call her. I'll let you get back to your workout." We hung up. I looked at the treadmill and realized that I couldn't go back to the workout now. Vince had me too distracted. The idea of Amberlea coming back to the WWE was a very welcome idea for me, but the idea of having her share a backstage area with John is frightening.

* * *

_**John Cena**_

As an unwritten rule, Vince always has the best office at the arena. It's always the biggest office, decorated with a desk, a TV, some couches and good catering. When I reached his office, he was sitting behind the desk on the phone. There was a plate of carrot sticks, celery sticks and dip to his left. Vince nodded as I walked into the room, holding up a hand and mouthing for me to have a seat. I took the chair across from his desk. It was a black leather Ergonomic chair that was surprisingly uncomfortable. The show is about to start in an hour; I can see the pile of paperwork and scripts on Vince's desk. He hung up. "That was fast, John."

"I came as soon as the tech found me. What did you want to see me about?"

"I'm thinking about bringing Amberlea Brennan back into the WWE Family, and I want to make sure that there still aren't any issues lingering between you three." Of course he knows all about these problems. I felt my nerves stand on end at the mention of Lea's name, the flutter of something pleasant in my stomach at the thought of seeing her again. It's been way too long.

"You want to bring her back?"

"Absolutely; the locker room needs her. I just want to know if you and Orton are going to be causing any problems," Vince replied tersely. I held up my hands in mock surrender.

"Never, Vince," I assured him, but Vince didn't look convinced.

"Well, let me talk to Amberlea. I think we should all have a sit down and hash everything out. That way I can come to work not worrying about you and Randy killing each other."

"There are no issues lingering on my end," I assured him. "If you think it's a good idea, let's do it."

"Glad to hear you're on board. If I can convince Amberlea to come by next week, we'll do it then, all right?"

"You always know where to find me," I joked. We fell silent for a moment. "Is that it?"

"You have Chris Jericho for the main event." I stood up, slapping hands with the boss.

"Good. I'll see you around." Vince nodded as the phone rang again. I tried to contain my joy as I left his office. I wanted to skip all the way to the locker room, but I somehow managed to contain myself. I wondered how she was looking these days. Having her around again would be wonderful.

I need to convince Vince to bring her here to _Raw_, away from Randy on _SmackDown_. I need to prove to Lea that she can trust me, that she always could trust me. I can't do anything with Randy around her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I'll bet they're dating. He isn't saying anything, but I think he is. I just want Lea to be happy; I don't want her to get wrapped up in his drama.

I walked into the locker room and found Chris Jericho sitting on a bench. He was set to leave pretty quickly; his rock band just released a new album and he's ready to go out and tour in support of it. He looked up as I walked in. "Hey," he said.

"We're main-eventing." Chris nodded. He was still dressed in his street clothes, a pair of faded blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt. "When are you finishing up with us?" I asked.

"Next Monday. Vince, Eric and I are hashing out all the details," he informed me. I nodded. It sucks to see him go; he's one of the only guys back here who actually minds his own business.

* * *

_**Amberlea Brennan**_

"Vince?"

"Amberlea!" his voice boomed over the phone. "How is one of my favorite Divas doing?"

I smiled, putting the bookmark into my book and closing it. I was sitting out on the porch, enjoying the gentle breeze and the sight of the sun fading on the horizon. I appreciated Vince's honesty in not calling me his favorite; every Diva backstage knows that Trish Stratus has the top spot and is the top draw, so she's the favorite. That, and Vince has a very obvious thing for blondes.

"I'm doing well, Vince. I'm just enjoying the sunset. What can I do for you?" I asked.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Amberlea, but we want you back. Would you want to come back to the WWE family? We miss you." I don't doubt that for a moment. I sure miss seeing Trish and Randy on a regular basis. It's always nice to hear the boss say he misses you, though.

"I appreciate that, Vince. I've just been settling back into a normal life. I haven't really thought about the next steps," I confessed. I looked down at the book on my lap. _The Shining_. I can't believe I'd never read it before. Randy's sister lent it to me; she said it was on her list of must-reads.

"I understand that. Would you ever come back?"

"I don't see why not. I mean, I know there's what happened with John…but we can work around that, right?" It still hurts knowing John thought so little of me, but I've worked past it a lot better than Randy has. Randy still wants to beat him within inches of his life. I just want to get on with my life.

"Yes. If you want to come out next week, I thought we'd all have a sit down and hash it out. I mean, you three will probably never be friends again, but I would at least like to keep things civil backstage."

"I understand." The idea of seeing John again was a little bit nerve-rattling, but I knew Vince was right. I can't avoid him forever. I mean, WWE is my home away from home. Where else would I go? Nowhere else would feel right.

"Would you agree?"

"It would be you, me, Randy and John?" I asked.

"It would. It would be a confidential meeting between the four of us," Vince assured me. Confidentiality is a huge issue in wrestling these days. I didn't buy that it would be a totally confidential meeting, but nothing could be more humiliating than the information of my "downward spiral" getting out. I sighed, running my tongue along the inside of my mouth, wondering if I was about to make the dumbest decision of my life. I wondered what Randy would say.

"Can I talk to Randy about this?" Vince asked.

"I spoke to him already," Vince told me to my surprise.

"What did he say?"

"He said you're free to make whatever decision you want," Vince replied. I smiled. "I'm not asking you to sign a new contract right away," Vince continued, "I just want you to come out and bury the hatchet so you'll feel better about coming back, if you choose to. There's nothing wrong with that, right?"

"I suppose not," I answered reluctantly. "I was going to travel with Randy at some point, so I guess I'll just do it next week."

"Great!" Vince boomed. I jumped, startled. "I'll see you next week, Amberlea."

"You, too," I said. I hung up the phone and rested my head back, staring at the rising moonlight. I had the feeling that I just made my life a whole lot more complicated.


End file.
